Scie
by Mama Joe
Summary: A group of people are trapped in a room. Who can get out alive? Saw fanfic. Non canon.
1. Prologue

A smattering of the most sanguine blood one could imagine was splattered over the wall, in a manner that screamed 'suffering'. A lone light swayed in the distance, and the door creaked slowly on its hinges. Someone had been here.

A brunette head slowly rose off of the floor. Its eyes slowly blinked, and widened, followed by a second, incredulous blink. The body attached to that head rose up sharply, with an air of pure, unadulterated fear, and the mouth let out an ear-extirpating scream.

The scream awoke another member of the room, an ageing blonde woman, with the elegant prowess of the 18th century French aristocracy. This mysterious femme sat up slowly, glancing wistfully at her surroundings, and her jaw dropped. She was looking at her hands. The same dainty, manicured hands as they were twelve hours previously, but only now, they were covered in crystalline, coagulated blood.

The brunette stood up, and took a step back, to truly assess the severity of the situation she had found herself stuck in with gay abandon. Surveying the room she found herself in, she saw that it was a replica of a room she recognised...

"The love dungeon!" she declared audibly, only to make sure that she wasn't dreaming.

The blonde looked up at the brunette, as if she had been called. Instantly, she felt a feeling of malignity towards the recent orator.

"You?" the blonde screamed, with all the distaste she could muster.

"Oh. My. God." The brunette replied, with equally unequivocal disgust.

"Slater, you old dog! What are you doing in my room?" the blonde demanded.

"You're dead!" Slater replied.

"You went to Harvard, Wilhelmina my dear. Surely you should be able to tell that I am quite obviously not 'en mort'?" the blonde snapped, losing her patience.

"Well. I guess it really is you. What happened?" Wilhelmina inquired, intrigued with the woman presented to her.

"I was kidnapped, by an awful girl. I was locked in her cellar, and have been there since." She replied. "Well, at least until before I was dragged here."

"Fey, I don't know where we are, but I swear, on my sable coat, that I will not try to destroy you, as long as you stop this joke and let me out."

"Willie, I have no idea where we are, but even if I did, it really doesn't matter." Fey replied.

"May I ask why?" Wilhelmina snapped.

Fey gestured wistfully upwards, and Wilhelmina's eyes followed, finishing with a focus on a mirrored ceiling, in which they could see the quincunx of people they were stuck with.

They both let out a gasp of disgust, and fainted.


	2. Love Dungeon

Fey and Wilhelmina were woken abruptly. A siren was screaming blue murder of the highest calibre throughout the room. They looked over at the other pair lying on the floor, who still hadn't stirred.

Wilhelmina looked over at them, and glared.

"Wilhelmina. I may be led down, but I can see you." The smaller of the figures said, irritated.

Wilhelmina jumped, as she thought that the figures were sleeping, or possibly dead.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." She said. "Oh, who am I kidding? I did mean to offend you. I hope it stung."

If Wilhelmina gave the figure a look of daggers, the figure reciprocated with one of bloody, murderous spears.

"Wh-wh-who is that?" Fey interjected.

Wilhelmina and the figure both turned to look up at her, deeply offended that someone had dared interrupt their vicious back and forth.

"Betty Suarez, Associate Features Editor." The figure said, beaming with pride, while an air of hatred still lingered towards Wilhelmina.

"Ahh. You're Ms Suarez. I know you by reputation of course." Fey replied, smiling cruelly.

"Do you know any of my pieces?" Betty said, happy.

"Yes, of course I do." Fey said. "Like the piece on Malaria, when everything was ruined and my dear Willie here had to stop your shoot from going 'à merde'."

Betty glowered behind her glasses, and blushed a little.

"I could never imagine someone with an illegitimate daughter judging someone else." She shot back.

"Wow. A fiery little Mexican. Do you get your temper from all the salsa you eat?"

Betty's jaw dropped. "I had you down as many things, you evil old crow, but a racist wasn't one of them. I may be Latina, but I'm still much, much better than you."

Fey looked hurt, and began to speak, with the soft, tender tone of a grandmother. "Betty, I didn't want to offend you."

"The damage has been done."

Betty and Fey failed to realise that Wilhelmina had been watching their feud, and was not happy.

"Betty, stop being a whiny little burrito. Fey, don't use your age as an excuse to be a bitch."

Fey and Betty were about to argue with Wilhelmina, when their heads were ominously drawn to the fourth figure on the floor.

The figure was seizuring uncontrollably.

"MARC!" Wilhelmina shouted, immediately recognising the fey brunette man rolling around on the floor.

At that moment, a light suddenly lit up. Wilhelmina stopped talking and turned round to see it.

A soothing, chilling voice was speaking to them. The voice held a presence of sorrow, and the group knew that they had to listen, if they wanted to survive.

"Welcome, my little cherubs." The voice said, laughing hysterically. "You may have noticed where you are. I can tell you that you are not where you think you are, and that any attempts to flee my grasp will result in a very slow, painful, agonising death for you."

Fey laughed, and stood up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ms Sommers."

Fey glared at the light, and walked over to the door. She put her hand on the doorknob, and the voice boomed again: "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yes. Now let me out of here."

The figure laughed, and the room shook. Fey began to turn the doorknob, but she stopped, because she felt a trickle of warm fluid run along her forearm, dripping slowly off at the elbow.

"I warned you." The voice murmured.

Fey looked slowly at her arm, and threw up. A blade had pierced the doorknob, and had gone through her hand, impaling her in their only chance of freedom.

"Now, you can make a choice." The voice said. "You can have Fey out safely, or Marc's life."

Wilhelmina broke down into an uncontrollable eruption of sobs. Betty slowly ran her arms around Wilhelmina's back, and rubbed it, comforting her as best she could, given their situation.

"CHOOSE ME, YOU STUPID WOMEN!" Fey shouted, fuming that they hadn't decided to save her arm.

Wilhelmina broke free of Betty's grasp, and looked up at the light.

"I have made my decision." Wilhelmina declared.

"Yes?" the voice replied, with an implied note of glee.

"I choose Marc."

"As you wish.

The key to life is inside which we stand.

To help the boy, do not give him a hand.

A knife is thus, and you will need to slice.

If him, you want, un pied will be the price."

Wilhelmina groaned. At a time like this, she couldn't be dealing with a riddle.

"It's your foot." Betty said. "Pie is foot in Spanish."

Fey groaned. "If it was Spanish, it would be 'una pie'. It's 'un pied'. The voice is speaking French."

"Why the hell does this matter?" Wilhelmina shouted. "It wants my foot!"

A clang echoed around the room, and they looked round to see a meat cleaver on the floor.

"Betty. I know I haven't been fair to you over the years, so I don't feel right asking you to do this, but can you do me a favour?" Wilhelmina asked.

"No. I will not cut your foot off." Betty replied drily.

Fey groaned again.

"I'll do it." She said, becoming impatient. She drew a sharp, deep breath, and pulled her hand away from the door. A crunch of bone on metal pierced their ears, and Fey screamed. Blood was pouring from her hand, tainting the floor the colour of anger.

She held her wrist up, and straggled over to the cleaver. She picked it up, screaming in agony at its wooden handle touched her wound. Dragging herself to Wilhelmina, she lifted her arms up, and swung with all her might.

_**-CRUNCH-**_

Wilhelmina was gushing blood, and was screaming in excruciating pain.

"Where do we put it?" Betty asked.

"Look in the centre of the room." The voice replied.

Betty had failed to notice that her father was unconscious on the floor. A note was stapled to his bare chest.

'_If you want to save your friend, Papi's life will have to end. Willie's foot inside his chest. His heart out, then Marc can rest.'_

Betty sobbed, knowing that she would end up choosing Papi over Marc.

"Marc, I'm so, so, so sorry." She wept. She handed Wilhelmina back her foot, and retreated to the corner.

"Wait just one moment, Speedy Gonsuarez. I cut off my foot for you. You WILL save Marc." Wilhelmina spat, fighting back screams of agony.

Fey glared at Wilhelmina, surprised by the insensitivity that she displayed. Her hand had stopped pouring blood, and the wound was starting to congeal over.

"Excuse me, voice?" she asked.

"Yes?" the voice replied, bemused.

"Can I kill the man for her?"

Betty shot her a dirty look, which Fey dismissed.

"Hmm." The voice pondered. "Fine. But you must do something for me."

"OK?" Fey replied, a little scared.

"Do you want to be able to smile anymore?" the voice asked.

Fey was uncertain, but didn't let it show externally.

A hatch in the ceiling opened, and a strange looking contraption dropped down.

"Bite the metal plate. I promise I won't kill you." The voice said, his voice emanating sick, twisted glee.

Fey did so, beginning to whimper like a scared puppy, and the room shook.

Wilhelmina and Betty looked around quickly, and screamed. Before Fey could turn and look, a padded block smashed into the back of her head, driving her cheeks into the metal plate.

The contraption dropped from the ceiling, and Fey rolled on the floor, driving the plate in even deeper. Realising what the plate was doing, she removed her jaw from it, and screamed, causing the already weeping wounds to explode with blood.

Wilhelmina knew Fey didn't suffer fools gladly, so she wasn't surprised when she stood back up, blood still pouring from her face, and marched over to Wilhelmina, thrusting her hand in the Creative Director's face.

Wilhelmina laughed hysterically, the ridiculousness of the situation taking its toll on her. She gently placed her foot in Fey's hand. Fey strode over to Ignacio, picking up the metal plate on route. Betty sobbed. She kneeled down, and smashed the plate into the old Latino's chest with all her might. He immediately came to, and began to scream, and flail. Fey knew, deep down, that this wasn't right. She knew what was for the best, so slammed the plate into her head. He stopped. Betty exploded into an unending torrent of tears, not having the strength for decorum.

Fey looked back at Ignacio. Still, and starting to cool. She placed his foot on the crevasse she made in his chest, and a box slammed from the ceiling.

Wilhelmina dragged herself over to it, and opened it. She glanced at Marc and her eyes almost popped out of her chest. He was blue. She knew that he didn't have long, so she slid the box to Betty, who found the will to drag herself away from her father for one moment. She pulled the needle out of the box, and rammed it into Marc's wrist.

Marc's eyes slowly began to open, and Wilhelmina cried a gasp of joy.

"MARC!" she shouted.

"No time for niceties." The voice interjected. "If you wish to survive, please enter the next room...


End file.
